Monday, November 22, 2010
Sunday, October 17, 2010
My Ridiculous Life
One of my best friends, who has had many an adventure alongside me, once joked that things occur in my life that really belong on a sitcom. I have a knack for getting myself into situations where the most random-ass shit happens, which generally end in hilarity. I mean, they do say that laughing about a situation is better than crying about it.
So here goes my most recent sitcom-like encounter. I'll start the counting at around 100, as I know I've had at least that many ridiculous situations by now.
#100: The flying mattress
About three weeks ago, I quit my job in a small town an hour north of Denver and moved back in with my parents, closer to civilization and a city with public transportation. I have until the end of this month to move out everything in my house, so I have been taking trips once in a while to do so. This evening, I enlisted the help of my older sister and took my father's work truck, a small Ford Ranger, to move the mattress and box spring where I slept to the garage in my parents house.
The drive up was in no way memorable. I remember driving past all the landmarks that have become so familiar to me over this past year, since I constantly drove that stretch of highway on the weekends. I recalled the U-Haul place in a town midway between Denver and Fort Collins, thinking how I had told my mother about an hour earlier that I should have just rented a truck to move my shit. After all, I knew the mattress and box spring weren't going to fit well on the truck because they were too large.
We got to my old house, said hello to my former roommates, and loaded up the bed, tying them on top of the truck, which had thick wooden planks screwed into a metal frame that extends past the back of the truck. Placing the box spring first, we loaded the full-size blue mattress on top of the box spring, my argument for that arrangement being that the heavier mattress would be less likely to fly away than the lighter box spring. I was wrong.
After securing the bed items with several rubber harnesses, my sister and I headed down Interstate 25 for the 60-mile ride. I was uneasy at first, going 65 mph at the max and feeling a knot in the pit of my stomach. Along the road, the truck kept pulling back slightly, almost as if it were bucking. I attributed that to the fact that the mattress and box spring were making the truck less aerodynamic, given that they were a big bulk on top.
After passing the first two towns directly north of Fort Collins, my anxieties began to lessen. I realized if I were going slowly on the right-hand lane, I was likely to be fine. "It's not even that windy," I thought to myself. As my sister sang along to a blues song about an unlucky woman, my mind began to wander instead to other things. Until we heard the snap.
It was on the drivers side of the car that I heard a loud snap, which I imagined was the metal hook hitting the side of the truck. Realizing the hooks had come undone, I quickly pulled over to the side of the road to inspect the damage, hoping for the best. Outside the truck, I looked up and told my sister, "we lost the mattress."
The box spring was still on top of the truck, as if nothing had occurred. But the big blue mattress, which my mother adored and was looking forward to using at home, was missing.
"The mattress flew off," I again repeated to my sister.
Instinctively, I told her we were going to leave the box spring on the side of the road, turn back around and search for the mattress. As we did so, I decided that I was through trying to tie the mattress to the top of the truck. I asked my sister to find out if there were any U-Haul places open where we could rent a truck and get the mattress back to Denver safely. I called one of my roommates, who had just rented a truck for their stuff. "I can't let anyone else drive this," he said, "and they're charging me by the mile."
I stopped to pump gas in the truck (lest I also get stranded in the middle of Northern Colorado while on the hunt for this mattress) and asked the attendant where I could rent a U-Haul. "The closest is probably Fort Collins," he said.
So we were back on the road, thinking that once we located the mattress we could call State Patrol and ask them if they could help us get the mattress back to one of their stations and we could come back the following day to get pick it up. Along the way, we kept our eyes peeled for a large, rectangular blob on the side of the road.
Just a few feet short of the place where we had dumped the box spring, we saw it, lying like a dead elk that had just encountered a car: My blue mattress, which literally resembled roadkill.
I pulled over to inspect the damage. I saw the blue shiny cover lying against the tall grass on the side of the road, a black spring sticking out between multiple layers of foam, egg-crate material and some thin white fabric. It was dead.
Walking back to the car, feeling dejected and beyond sad, I picked up a piece of the white fabric that was floating around the grass, a memento of the mattress that was so freaking comfortable.
We picked up the box spring, threw it back on top of the truck, and set out again for Denver, silence filling the inside of the truck. Rather than getting angry at my sister's back-seat driving, I simply pulled over and told her to drive home. We got off the interstate and pulled into an unpaved county road. Given that it's near Halloween, it seemed like the perfect set-up for the first installment of the Colorado Chainsaw Massacre. Although the GPS on my phone showed that we'd end up on a main road, eventually.
Taking the back roads down to Denver, we eventually realized that the wind was pushing the box spring towards the back of the truck and if it continued on that trajectory, it would eventually fall off, given that there was nothing there to hold it. We pulled over, I pushed it further towards the front of the truck, and we were off again. We established this was going to have to become routine.
Through a stuck of fortune or fate, the next stop we made was in the parking lot of a Wal-Mart, where my sister suggested we buy rope and use it to further tie the box spring down. A great suggestion, except for the 20 minutes I spent in line waiting for the woman in front of me to buy the month's groceries at 10:30 p.m. on a Saturday night.
In the parking lot, I used all 50 feet of the white nylon rope to tie down the box spring, creating a net on the ends to prevent it from sliding forward or backward. Then I left it to fate, noting that if we were meant to lose that too, there would be nothing I could do to prevent that.
And we continued on that journey, driving the rest of the way home, eating beef jerky and Goldfish I'd grabbed while waiting at the check out line. Near the end, the situation began to seem kind of funny. I mean, come on -- it's a flying mattress. We also hypothesized about whether or not the mattress just landed on the side of the road, or if it was run over by one of the large semi trucks that frequent that highway. It was 10 p.m. and a lot could have happened during the 30 minutes it took us to re-locate the mattress on the highway.
It was the scenic route home but we made it back, box spring in tow. It's a shame the same couldn't be said for the mattress.
Now I'm just waiting for tomorrow, when my mother finds out her beloved mattress, which she possibly couldn't sell, is sitting on the side of I-25, as mattress roadkill.
And in an even stranger twist of fate, as I get home, I receive a text message from one of my best friends. After two years of sleeping on an air mattress, he finally purchsed a real bed. He gains a mattress, I lose a mattress. The ying-yang of the universe.
So here goes my most recent sitcom-like encounter. I'll start the counting at around 100, as I know I've had at least that many ridiculous situations by now.
#100: The flying mattress
About three weeks ago, I quit my job in a small town an hour north of Denver and moved back in with my parents, closer to civilization and a city with public transportation. I have until the end of this month to move out everything in my house, so I have been taking trips once in a while to do so. This evening, I enlisted the help of my older sister and took my father's work truck, a small Ford Ranger, to move the mattress and box spring where I slept to the garage in my parents house.
The drive up was in no way memorable. I remember driving past all the landmarks that have become so familiar to me over this past year, since I constantly drove that stretch of highway on the weekends. I recalled the U-Haul place in a town midway between Denver and Fort Collins, thinking how I had told my mother about an hour earlier that I should have just rented a truck to move my shit. After all, I knew the mattress and box spring weren't going to fit well on the truck because they were too large.
We got to my old house, said hello to my former roommates, and loaded up the bed, tying them on top of the truck, which had thick wooden planks screwed into a metal frame that extends past the back of the truck. Placing the box spring first, we loaded the full-size blue mattress on top of the box spring, my argument for that arrangement being that the heavier mattress would be less likely to fly away than the lighter box spring. I was wrong.
After securing the bed items with several rubber harnesses, my sister and I headed down Interstate 25 for the 60-mile ride. I was uneasy at first, going 65 mph at the max and feeling a knot in the pit of my stomach. Along the road, the truck kept pulling back slightly, almost as if it were bucking. I attributed that to the fact that the mattress and box spring were making the truck less aerodynamic, given that they were a big bulk on top.
After passing the first two towns directly north of Fort Collins, my anxieties began to lessen. I realized if I were going slowly on the right-hand lane, I was likely to be fine. "It's not even that windy," I thought to myself. As my sister sang along to a blues song about an unlucky woman, my mind began to wander instead to other things. Until we heard the snap.
It was on the drivers side of the car that I heard a loud snap, which I imagined was the metal hook hitting the side of the truck. Realizing the hooks had come undone, I quickly pulled over to the side of the road to inspect the damage, hoping for the best. Outside the truck, I looked up and told my sister, "we lost the mattress."
The box spring was still on top of the truck, as if nothing had occurred. But the big blue mattress, which my mother adored and was looking forward to using at home, was missing.
"The mattress flew off," I again repeated to my sister.
Instinctively, I told her we were going to leave the box spring on the side of the road, turn back around and search for the mattress. As we did so, I decided that I was through trying to tie the mattress to the top of the truck. I asked my sister to find out if there were any U-Haul places open where we could rent a truck and get the mattress back to Denver safely. I called one of my roommates, who had just rented a truck for their stuff. "I can't let anyone else drive this," he said, "and they're charging me by the mile."
I stopped to pump gas in the truck (lest I also get stranded in the middle of Northern Colorado while on the hunt for this mattress) and asked the attendant where I could rent a U-Haul. "The closest is probably Fort Collins," he said.
So we were back on the road, thinking that once we located the mattress we could call State Patrol and ask them if they could help us get the mattress back to one of their stations and we could come back the following day to get pick it up. Along the way, we kept our eyes peeled for a large, rectangular blob on the side of the road.
Just a few feet short of the place where we had dumped the box spring, we saw it, lying like a dead elk that had just encountered a car: My blue mattress, which literally resembled roadkill.
I pulled over to inspect the damage. I saw the blue shiny cover lying against the tall grass on the side of the road, a black spring sticking out between multiple layers of foam, egg-crate material and some thin white fabric. It was dead.
Walking back to the car, feeling dejected and beyond sad, I picked up a piece of the white fabric that was floating around the grass, a memento of the mattress that was so freaking comfortable.
We picked up the box spring, threw it back on top of the truck, and set out again for Denver, silence filling the inside of the truck. Rather than getting angry at my sister's back-seat driving, I simply pulled over and told her to drive home. We got off the interstate and pulled into an unpaved county road. Given that it's near Halloween, it seemed like the perfect set-up for the first installment of the Colorado Chainsaw Massacre. Although the GPS on my phone showed that we'd end up on a main road, eventually.
Taking the back roads down to Denver, we eventually realized that the wind was pushing the box spring towards the back of the truck and if it continued on that trajectory, it would eventually fall off, given that there was nothing there to hold it. We pulled over, I pushed it further towards the front of the truck, and we were off again. We established this was going to have to become routine.
Through a stuck of fortune or fate, the next stop we made was in the parking lot of a Wal-Mart, where my sister suggested we buy rope and use it to further tie the box spring down. A great suggestion, except for the 20 minutes I spent in line waiting for the woman in front of me to buy the month's groceries at 10:30 p.m. on a Saturday night.
In the parking lot, I used all 50 feet of the white nylon rope to tie down the box spring, creating a net on the ends to prevent it from sliding forward or backward. Then I left it to fate, noting that if we were meant to lose that too, there would be nothing I could do to prevent that.
And we continued on that journey, driving the rest of the way home, eating beef jerky and Goldfish I'd grabbed while waiting at the check out line. Near the end, the situation began to seem kind of funny. I mean, come on -- it's a flying mattress. We also hypothesized about whether or not the mattress just landed on the side of the road, or if it was run over by one of the large semi trucks that frequent that highway. It was 10 p.m. and a lot could have happened during the 30 minutes it took us to re-locate the mattress on the highway.
It was the scenic route home but we made it back, box spring in tow. It's a shame the same couldn't be said for the mattress.
Now I'm just waiting for tomorrow, when my mother finds out her beloved mattress, which she possibly couldn't sell, is sitting on the side of I-25, as mattress roadkill.
And in an even stranger twist of fate, as I get home, I receive a text message from one of my best friends. After two years of sleeping on an air mattress, he finally purchsed a real bed. He gains a mattress, I lose a mattress. The ying-yang of the universe.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
You know what would be awesome?
If I could make up my damn mind!
I don't know what to do with myself anymore! I want to be here and there, do this and that, to be and not to be. I want everything and can't have anything and it is FRUSTRATING!
Someone make a plan for me and don't let me have options. Those complicate my life.
I don't know what to do with myself anymore! I want to be here and there, do this and that, to be and not to be. I want everything and can't have anything and it is FRUSTRATING!
Someone make a plan for me and don't let me have options. Those complicate my life.
Monday, September 13, 2010
My album list
I've come to realize that it has been an eternity since I've bought a new album or even come to find a new awesome band. That is not acceptable, and perhaps now that I am going to have more time for non-work things I can get back into surfing the waves for awesome new tuneige.
In commemoration of this, I am posting a list of the top five albums I must get, stat. They are not all recent releases; in fact the majority were released more than a year ago. But I need 'em!
1. Kid Cudi, Man on the Moon: The End of Day
"Pursuit of Happiness" has been my life's theme song for the past six months, or more. I already know the rest of the entire album and I'm convinced Kid and I would have the most awesome babies. Now if only I could meet him and have the album on my iPod so I can listen to it on demand rather than use my phone to find it on YouTube...
2. The Bravery, Self-titled album
This is one of my favorite albums of all time, and I actually lost the CD a few years back. I was completely unaware of it, however, until about nine months ago, when I wanted to listen to it. It's nowhere to be found in my CD collection and it makes me very bummed.
3. The Bravery, Stir The Blood
I am so in love with The Bravery and what they do. I heard them play tons of material from this album before it's release last fall. Loved the songs from the show and think it will be such a worthwhile investment, when it happens.
4. M.I.A., /\/\/\Y/\
I want to be her. She keeps growing with each album and I don't care how crazy she is, she is gorgeous and not afraid to be herself and independent. I really respect her as an artist and enjoy her music.
5. Weezer, Hurley
I've only listened to a few of the songs, but it's Weez's newest album and it's being released by Epitaph. Need I say more?
In commemoration of this, I am posting a list of the top five albums I must get, stat. They are not all recent releases; in fact the majority were released more than a year ago. But I need 'em!
1. Kid Cudi, Man on the Moon: The End of Day
"Pursuit of Happiness" has been my life's theme song for the past six months, or more. I already know the rest of the entire album and I'm convinced Kid and I would have the most awesome babies. Now if only I could meet him and have the album on my iPod so I can listen to it on demand rather than use my phone to find it on YouTube...
2. The Bravery, Self-titled album
This is one of my favorite albums of all time, and I actually lost the CD a few years back. I was completely unaware of it, however, until about nine months ago, when I wanted to listen to it. It's nowhere to be found in my CD collection and it makes me very bummed.
3. The Bravery, Stir The Blood
I am so in love with The Bravery and what they do. I heard them play tons of material from this album before it's release last fall. Loved the songs from the show and think it will be such a worthwhile investment, when it happens.
4. M.I.A., /\/\/\Y/\
I want to be her. She keeps growing with each album and I don't care how crazy she is, she is gorgeous and not afraid to be herself and independent. I really respect her as an artist and enjoy her music.
5. Weezer, Hurley
I've only listened to a few of the songs, but it's Weez's newest album and it's being released by Epitaph. Need I say more?
Sunday, August 29, 2010
My eyes burn
After allowing them to sit in the optometrist's office for nearly a month, I finally picked up my contact lenses (with the new prescription!). Having worn them for the second day today, my eyes are having some trouble adjusting to the prescription. Also, my eyes have gone back to being mega-dry, itchy and watery by the end of the day. Too much screen time, my wellness-expert friends would say.
However, I did spend some time re-designing my WordPress website, so I feel like the screen time was worth it. Better than the time I had the SYTYCD marathon for about a week, trying to get caught up.
And also, it is balls hot in my room. Time to bring the fan out again.
Entrevista mañana -- dedos cruzados y suerte a mi!
However, I did spend some time re-designing my WordPress website, so I feel like the screen time was worth it. Better than the time I had the SYTYCD marathon for about a week, trying to get caught up.
And also, it is balls hot in my room. Time to bring the fan out again.
Entrevista mañana -- dedos cruzados y suerte a mi!
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Long time overdue
Wow, this entry is quite overdue.
This summer has been filled with many random trips and small adventures, which I've really enjoyed. I went rafting with Amber, and I was able to check out some new places here in Fort Collins. Plus, I've been spending lots of time in my backyard with my roomies, lighting up a fire pit we have and making the most ridiculous mad libs.
All in all, it's been a good summer. It's just a shame that schools are back in session and things are going to start getting hectic and stressful again.
I'd like to plan a vacation where I re-unite with friends from college, somewhere awesome with a beach. Like Miami, for instance. Or California.
Well, off to cover tonight's exciting school board meeting!
This summer has been filled with many random trips and small adventures, which I've really enjoyed. I went rafting with Amber, and I was able to check out some new places here in Fort Collins. Plus, I've been spending lots of time in my backyard with my roomies, lighting up a fire pit we have and making the most ridiculous mad libs.
All in all, it's been a good summer. It's just a shame that schools are back in session and things are going to start getting hectic and stressful again.
I'd like to plan a vacation where I re-unite with friends from college, somewhere awesome with a beach. Like Miami, for instance. Or California.
Well, off to cover tonight's exciting school board meeting!
Saturday, June 19, 2010
Do hired killers deserve the death penalty?
My parents and I had an interesting discussion this afternoon about whether or not the hired killers that have taken over the streets of Mexico and invoked fear into the hearts of its citizens deserve the death penalty.
News accounts estimate that more than 130 Mexicans have already died at the hands of bloodthirsty traffickers in June alone. A cousin of mine, who lives Reynosa, opposite the Texan town of McAllen, said she believes the numbers reported by the media are actually only counting about 70 percent of the actual murders that are occurring.
To say Mexico is undergoing a civil war of sorts is trite. It's obvious to anyone who keeps an ear out for news from Latin America that the situation for Mexicans is looking pretty grim. And while the Mexican federal government keeps saying it is putting forth an effort to combat the narcos, justice for the victims being tortured and slaughtered is slow-moving.
Which leads me to my question: Do men and women found guilty of being mercenaries for the narcos deserve the death penalty? And if so, should it be done publicly?
My mother and father argued that the people responsible for these massacres should be executed publicly, hung in the middle of the town squares to be made examples of and somehow discourage the other thousands of sicarios from also murdering innocent Mexicans in cold blood.
Personally, I don't think violence solves violence, nor do I think an issue like this can be so easily fixed. The multiple murders each day are not symptoms of something but rather the end result of a long line of problems that plague Mexico, including corruption and an over-dependence on the United States.
I should also note that in Mexico, the death penalty is illegal. People can be sentenced to life in prison for the gravest of crimes but cannot be executed.
If narcos really do threaten people to pay for "protective services" or be killed, what's to say that they aren't forcing people to work for them? And what's to say that public executions will really do anything to stop that? I'm not naive enough to think that putting the narcos in jail will solve issues either, but I'm not claiming to know the answer. I just know that an eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind, and killing the killers lowers us to their level.
News accounts estimate that more than 130 Mexicans have already died at the hands of bloodthirsty traffickers in June alone. A cousin of mine, who lives Reynosa, opposite the Texan town of McAllen, said she believes the numbers reported by the media are actually only counting about 70 percent of the actual murders that are occurring.
To say Mexico is undergoing a civil war of sorts is trite. It's obvious to anyone who keeps an ear out for news from Latin America that the situation for Mexicans is looking pretty grim. And while the Mexican federal government keeps saying it is putting forth an effort to combat the narcos, justice for the victims being tortured and slaughtered is slow-moving.
Which leads me to my question: Do men and women found guilty of being mercenaries for the narcos deserve the death penalty? And if so, should it be done publicly?
My mother and father argued that the people responsible for these massacres should be executed publicly, hung in the middle of the town squares to be made examples of and somehow discourage the other thousands of sicarios from also murdering innocent Mexicans in cold blood.
Personally, I don't think violence solves violence, nor do I think an issue like this can be so easily fixed. The multiple murders each day are not symptoms of something but rather the end result of a long line of problems that plague Mexico, including corruption and an over-dependence on the United States.
I should also note that in Mexico, the death penalty is illegal. People can be sentenced to life in prison for the gravest of crimes but cannot be executed.
If narcos really do threaten people to pay for "protective services" or be killed, what's to say that they aren't forcing people to work for them? And what's to say that public executions will really do anything to stop that? I'm not naive enough to think that putting the narcos in jail will solve issues either, but I'm not claiming to know the answer. I just know that an eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind, and killing the killers lowers us to their level.
Friday, March 19, 2010
There is nothing weirder than researching old teachers
Instead of finishing up a story that I was technically supposed to have filed by today, I was distracted by the thought of searching my old schools online.
I found my fifth grade teacher, who looks much different now than he does in my mind, and have discovered that some of the most memorable teachers I've had are no longer working for the school district.
It really goes to show how much I've grown, even if it hasn't always felt that way.
I found my fifth grade teacher, who looks much different now than he does in my mind, and have discovered that some of the most memorable teachers I've had are no longer working for the school district.
It really goes to show how much I've grown, even if it hasn't always felt that way.
Thursday, March 18, 2010
Rock 'n' Roll hall of fame -- wtf?
I can't believe it took so long to induct Iggy Pop into the Rock 'n' Roll hall of fame. It seems pretty obvious (to me, at least) that Iggy has been one of the most influential artists from the 1970s punk scene.
There must have been some pretty big names to beat out the Stooges six previous times. I'm on a mission to find out who they are ...
Read this article and enjoy this really shitty video:
There must have been some pretty big names to beat out the Stooges six previous times. I'm on a mission to find out who they are ...
Read this article and enjoy this really shitty video:
Sunday, March 7, 2010
simple pleasures
Here are a few simple things in life that I very much enjoy:
1. Free downloads. Lately, I've gotten about 15 free songs, thanks to the great folks at NPR music and the weekly downloads from iTunes. Absolutely lovely, I say...
2. Good coffee. I've been trying to brew my own cuppa java each morning before I head off to work (I mean, if I have the coffee maker why not use it, right?) but I can't seem to master the proper measurements between water and beans. And maybe it's the fact that I use skim milk instead of the creamer available at the coffee shops, but I can't make my coffee taste as good as the stuff they sell. Maybe they put something special in it to make it addicting.
3. Charles Bukowski. He's so crazy, I just love him. I finished reading Pulp and I'm itching to go to the bookstore so I can find another of his novels.
4. Listening/drinking/reading one of the above on a sunny porch. Now that the sunshine has finally decided to roll over to my end of the country, I'm really excited to be able to sit on my front porch and enjoy the sun while doing one of the other things above. I think the positioning of our porch in comparison to the way the sun moves, plus the bushes that block the early morning sunrise might make this porch sitting complicated. I mean, the porch will be warm and sunny but I might not be able to sit in the sunshine for a long time. It's complicated, I'm nonsensical.
I'm trying to write a short story just for kicks, but I don't know what to write about. No wonder writers have such a hard job.
1. Free downloads. Lately, I've gotten about 15 free songs, thanks to the great folks at NPR music and the weekly downloads from iTunes. Absolutely lovely, I say...
2. Good coffee. I've been trying to brew my own cuppa java each morning before I head off to work (I mean, if I have the coffee maker why not use it, right?) but I can't seem to master the proper measurements between water and beans. And maybe it's the fact that I use skim milk instead of the creamer available at the coffee shops, but I can't make my coffee taste as good as the stuff they sell. Maybe they put something special in it to make it addicting.
3. Charles Bukowski. He's so crazy, I just love him. I finished reading Pulp and I'm itching to go to the bookstore so I can find another of his novels.
4. Listening/drinking/reading one of the above on a sunny porch. Now that the sunshine has finally decided to roll over to my end of the country, I'm really excited to be able to sit on my front porch and enjoy the sun while doing one of the other things above. I think the positioning of our porch in comparison to the way the sun moves, plus the bushes that block the early morning sunrise might make this porch sitting complicated. I mean, the porch will be warm and sunny but I might not be able to sit in the sunshine for a long time. It's complicated, I'm nonsensical.
I'm trying to write a short story just for kicks, but I don't know what to write about. No wonder writers have such a hard job.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
welcome, March!
I think it's cra-cra-cra crazy that March is here. Three months into the new year already -- awesome. Not that I'm anymore excited for another year to go by (growing old sucks) but it brings me closer to achieving that next step -- whatever or wherever it may be.
Plus it also means that the winter blues are coming to an end, thank goodness. I don't ever remember disliking the winter so much before I became acquainted with the frigid and gray winters of Chicago. However, since those days I can't seem to shake off the slump that inevitably comes with winter. Is it the weather? The unending need for sweaters? Or the lack of TV I've had for the past five winters?
Speaking of high school (sort-of), I've had two odd throwbacks to the days of my immediate pre-collegiate years. Today I ran into a kid who graduated a year after me and was pretty cool. He's working at the mall and going to school, and he's gotten taller. Still skinny as hell though, and still super-quiet.
The other thing that got me thinking about high school, however, was an event I covered Saturday.
Now, I've never been one to miss high school. It came and it went, uneventfully. Few things about that period in my life stick out. I can recall spending lots of hours working on the newspaper, running on the cross country team, and the smell of dew on a chilly early spring afternoon on the soccer field. I also kind of remember graduating and some classes.
In any case, I never really had a great time. Didn't really have a lot of friends, didn't really do anything outside of my schoolwork and the extracurriculars. No crazy sex parties, no craziness period. I can't even remember really having a crush on anyone the last few years, mostly because I was always afraid of the popular kids and wasn't into the weird ones. I always figured it was because of the small size of my high school that I never got into anyone.
OK, but the point I'm trying to make is that I never liked high school and I was really glad to get out of it, and I've never looked back and wished to do it over again, as I have other things in life (namely, college). But in covering this science-bowl thing on Saturday, I saw a group of high school students and I envied them, and for the first time I can remember, I wished I could go back to high school too. Not my high school, though, but theirs. The entire experience made me think about how sheltered I've really been for much of my life, and how I continue living in this strange bubble. These nerdy kids have all sorts of opportunities, not only to do well in school and travel to different places but also to meet different kinds of people and have loads of experiences that I've just recognized exist.
This post doesn't make any sense and I'm fine with it. I guess I just don't know what I'm trying to say.
Plus it also means that the winter blues are coming to an end, thank goodness. I don't ever remember disliking the winter so much before I became acquainted with the frigid and gray winters of Chicago. However, since those days I can't seem to shake off the slump that inevitably comes with winter. Is it the weather? The unending need for sweaters? Or the lack of TV I've had for the past five winters?
Speaking of high school (sort-of), I've had two odd throwbacks to the days of my immediate pre-collegiate years. Today I ran into a kid who graduated a year after me and was pretty cool. He's working at the mall and going to school, and he's gotten taller. Still skinny as hell though, and still super-quiet.
The other thing that got me thinking about high school, however, was an event I covered Saturday.
Now, I've never been one to miss high school. It came and it went, uneventfully. Few things about that period in my life stick out. I can recall spending lots of hours working on the newspaper, running on the cross country team, and the smell of dew on a chilly early spring afternoon on the soccer field. I also kind of remember graduating and some classes.
In any case, I never really had a great time. Didn't really have a lot of friends, didn't really do anything outside of my schoolwork and the extracurriculars. No crazy sex parties, no craziness period. I can't even remember really having a crush on anyone the last few years, mostly because I was always afraid of the popular kids and wasn't into the weird ones. I always figured it was because of the small size of my high school that I never got into anyone.
OK, but the point I'm trying to make is that I never liked high school and I was really glad to get out of it, and I've never looked back and wished to do it over again, as I have other things in life (namely, college). But in covering this science-bowl thing on Saturday, I saw a group of high school students and I envied them, and for the first time I can remember, I wished I could go back to high school too. Not my high school, though, but theirs. The entire experience made me think about how sheltered I've really been for much of my life, and how I continue living in this strange bubble. These nerdy kids have all sorts of opportunities, not only to do well in school and travel to different places but also to meet different kinds of people and have loads of experiences that I've just recognized exist.
This post doesn't make any sense and I'm fine with it. I guess I just don't know what I'm trying to say.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
my blog about needing a (real) blog
It's no fun to write a blog when the only person reading it is one friend. Why don't I just send Dani a blog-style e-mail instead?
I've randomly gotten sidetracked on the internet (don't know how it's possible, since there's oh-so-little to see and do online) and found that some people have some really interesting blogs going on. From writing about free gym trials in Manhattan to trying to find a real job in the music biz and even discovering yourself in small Indian villages, it makes my lame little blog, well...lame.
And I'm not nearly cool enough to have lots of people want to read a blog about my life. So I am going to stop this nonsense, find something to blog about, then proceed. Now, to find some topic that needs to be written about and fill that hole!
I've randomly gotten sidetracked on the internet (don't know how it's possible, since there's oh-so-little to see and do online) and found that some people have some really interesting blogs going on. From writing about free gym trials in Manhattan to trying to find a real job in the music biz and even discovering yourself in small Indian villages, it makes my lame little blog, well...lame.
And I'm not nearly cool enough to have lots of people want to read a blog about my life. So I am going to stop this nonsense, find something to blog about, then proceed. Now, to find some topic that needs to be written about and fill that hole!
Saturday, February 20, 2010
My missed deadline
No, it wasn't at work, actually. It was for the Teach for America application I had been musing about in my head.
Do I want to be a teacher? Maybe in the near future. But the week ended up redeeming the frustration I often feel at my job enough for me to choose dinner and a movie with an old friend over writing 500 words about why I want to join the teaching corps. I guess this means I'm stuck at the paper for another year. Or at least I can try to meet that 12-month mark.
Do I want to be a teacher? Maybe in the near future. But the week ended up redeeming the frustration I often feel at my job enough for me to choose dinner and a movie with an old friend over writing 500 words about why I want to join the teaching corps. I guess this means I'm stuck at the paper for another year. Or at least I can try to meet that 12-month mark.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
The grass is always greener on the other side
I'm beginning to think that I need a serious attitude adjustment.
I can't be happy, regardless of where I am. The last three places where I've lived, it seems like I keep telling myself that I'd rather be somewhere else because I'm unhappy in the current situation.
Yet again, I find myself unhappy with where I am, and I'm starting to notice a pattern that startles me. I thought I had the dream job, and I thought the location was a dream one too (close enough that I can visit my folks whenever I wanted to but not so close that I have to still live at home).
But now I find myself wishing for yet another change, and hoping for something else, somewhere else. It's left me wondering: Is my situation really bad, or am I just hating it again, much like I have hundreds of other situations before this one?
At NU, I went on and on and on about how much I disliked it there and how I couldn't wait to get out. I moved to Madrid and after a month, started bitching about how much I hated it there and how I couldn't wait to get back home and get a job as a reporter.
Now, I've got the reporting job at home I wanted, and suddenly I want to abandon ship and get a job somewhere else doing something else? Why can't I be happy? Why does everything always look better in retrospect? And when will I know if I should really change my situation because it's legitimately bad instead of me just being a pansy and wanting out?
Is this part of growing up, or is this something that will follow me throughout life?
meant to be unhappy for the rest of my life, mostly because I can never seem to
I can't be happy, regardless of where I am. The last three places where I've lived, it seems like I keep telling myself that I'd rather be somewhere else because I'm unhappy in the current situation.
Yet again, I find myself unhappy with where I am, and I'm starting to notice a pattern that startles me. I thought I had the dream job, and I thought the location was a dream one too (close enough that I can visit my folks whenever I wanted to but not so close that I have to still live at home).
But now I find myself wishing for yet another change, and hoping for something else, somewhere else. It's left me wondering: Is my situation really bad, or am I just hating it again, much like I have hundreds of other situations before this one?
At NU, I went on and on and on about how much I disliked it there and how I couldn't wait to get out. I moved to Madrid and after a month, started bitching about how much I hated it there and how I couldn't wait to get back home and get a job as a reporter.
Now, I've got the reporting job at home I wanted, and suddenly I want to abandon ship and get a job somewhere else doing something else? Why can't I be happy? Why does everything always look better in retrospect? And when will I know if I should really change my situation because it's legitimately bad instead of me just being a pansy and wanting out?
Is this part of growing up, or is this something that will follow me throughout life?
meant to be unhappy for the rest of my life, mostly because I can never seem to
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
selling papers
I have heard many odd comments and many interesting things, but perhaps none as curious as one I heard today.
In talking about some rather negative stories I've written recently, someone asked me why the paper was publishing these "awful" stories about people. And then the person asked me if it was because we were "trying to sell more papers."
1. This scandal is not like Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinski, people. It's a cover-up at the district level.
2. We've actually LOST subscribers because of the stories, not gained any.
3. It's education. Who is going to buy a paper because the district superintendent is on the cover?
But I digress. I shall continue to hold my head up high and take those daggers-of-death shooting out of people's eyes. You may not like what I'm writing, but I'm writing it anyway (if its worthwhile).
In talking about some rather negative stories I've written recently, someone asked me why the paper was publishing these "awful" stories about people. And then the person asked me if it was because we were "trying to sell more papers."
1. This scandal is not like Bill Clinton and Monica Lewinski, people. It's a cover-up at the district level.
2. We've actually LOST subscribers because of the stories, not gained any.
3. It's education. Who is going to buy a paper because the district superintendent is on the cover?
But I digress. I shall continue to hold my head up high and take those daggers-of-death shooting out of people's eyes. You may not like what I'm writing, but I'm writing it anyway (if its worthwhile).
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Poppin' my way through the new year
I've signed up for a hip hop dance class for the winter/spring. While I'm super-excited for this class, there are two minor problems:
1. I feel like a fat cow compared to the other 6 women in my class, and given that I'm not all that thick, it's quite depressing and distracting.
2. The ladies all crack jokes about "white girl" dancing and "ghetto booties." You aren't from the ghetto (the nearest one to Fort Collins is at least 60 miles away) and no one thinks its any funnier when throw race into it. So don't.
1. I feel like a fat cow compared to the other 6 women in my class, and given that I'm not all that thick, it's quite depressing and distracting.
2. The ladies all crack jokes about "white girl" dancing and "ghetto booties." You aren't from the ghetto (the nearest one to Fort Collins is at least 60 miles away) and no one thinks its any funnier when throw race into it. So don't.
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Fighting boredom elsewhere
After nearly two weeks of working for a day and having the following three off, I am finally ready to settle back into the working schedule. This time, the lack of holiday stories looming over my head will certainly make me much more efficient at my job.
Plus, I am hoping that finally having a working sense of what is expected of me will mean that I will feel less stressed (which I've already been doing since November, with the exception of December). And less stress means I might enjoy life more.
In spite of the impending winter and the usual blues it brings, I am being cautiously optimistic about what might be in store for me. I'm thinking that I will push past these growing pains of becoming an adult and just throw myself into it headfirst. Regardless of the jump, you're bound to land somewhere.
In less depressing news, a conversation with Andi today has led me to believe that I am somehow still emo. I wonder if that's something I can help or not.
Random note: Yesterday I tried to take a run on the treadmill at work. After 2.25 miles and 25 minutes, I felt like I was about to collapse. I couldn't figure out what had happened -- I know I'm not particularly fit but I was capable of keeping a pace for at least 40 minutes when I last jogged in Madrid.
Then it hit me -- I'm back to fighting the altitude. Getting back into running is going to be killer for me, but it gives me something to fight for. Plus, that should alleviate some of the boredom I often feel. If the gym at work is open until midnight, then by george I will be there.
Again, in another unrelated note, I am sitting at a coffee shop in Old Town (downtown Fort Collins) just chillin'. But there's this interview going on in the table directly across from me that has captivated me. The interviewee is a young boy, seemingly teen-aged, and possibly Latino. He looks nervous and a little nerdy. Flanking him on each side are a man and woman, probably between 25 and 30. The boy is wearing jeans and a thick, brown sweater-jacket. The two interviewers are dressed in black and white business attire -- dark slacks, white collared shirts, blazers. I can't figure out what the point of this interview is. College entrance? An odd job interview?? A survey??? The music and general buzz in the shop is too loud to really allow me to eavesdrop, one of my favorite hobbies. So the snippets I do catch are even more awkward than they seemingly would be anyway.
"Why would someone pay for a membership at Sam's Club?"
"It's about the value, right?"
"The checkmarks I'm seeing total up to 60 percent" and something about "a corporation."
Fcuk -- I can't focus because I am so annoyed at the fact that I don't know what these people are talking about. Thus making this the most useless post I've ever written.
Plus, I am hoping that finally having a working sense of what is expected of me will mean that I will feel less stressed (which I've already been doing since November, with the exception of December). And less stress means I might enjoy life more.
In spite of the impending winter and the usual blues it brings, I am being cautiously optimistic about what might be in store for me. I'm thinking that I will push past these growing pains of becoming an adult and just throw myself into it headfirst. Regardless of the jump, you're bound to land somewhere.
In less depressing news, a conversation with Andi today has led me to believe that I am somehow still emo. I wonder if that's something I can help or not.
Random note: Yesterday I tried to take a run on the treadmill at work. After 2.25 miles and 25 minutes, I felt like I was about to collapse. I couldn't figure out what had happened -- I know I'm not particularly fit but I was capable of keeping a pace for at least 40 minutes when I last jogged in Madrid.
Then it hit me -- I'm back to fighting the altitude. Getting back into running is going to be killer for me, but it gives me something to fight for. Plus, that should alleviate some of the boredom I often feel. If the gym at work is open until midnight, then by george I will be there.
Again, in another unrelated note, I am sitting at a coffee shop in Old Town (downtown Fort Collins) just chillin'. But there's this interview going on in the table directly across from me that has captivated me. The interviewee is a young boy, seemingly teen-aged, and possibly Latino. He looks nervous and a little nerdy. Flanking him on each side are a man and woman, probably between 25 and 30. The boy is wearing jeans and a thick, brown sweater-jacket. The two interviewers are dressed in black and white business attire -- dark slacks, white collared shirts, blazers. I can't figure out what the point of this interview is. College entrance? An odd job interview?? A survey??? The music and general buzz in the shop is too loud to really allow me to eavesdrop, one of my favorite hobbies. So the snippets I do catch are even more awkward than they seemingly would be anyway.
"Why would someone pay for a membership at Sam's Club?"
"It's about the value, right?"
"The checkmarks I'm seeing total up to 60 percent" and something about "a corporation."
Fcuk -- I can't focus because I am so annoyed at the fact that I don't know what these people are talking about. Thus making this the most useless post I've ever written.
Friday, January 1, 2010
"This is the new year...
And I don't feel any different."
I'm still trying to actually write my 10 resolutions for 2010 somewhere (what I call 10 in 2010) so I can see them and stick to them. I don't even know if I have 10 resolutions yet, but I will have them by Sunday. Maybe that can be resolution No. 1?
In any case, I know that one of the bigger resolutions is to start cutting the cord from the folks. Now, this has been done somewhat over the last 5 years, but I've always been plagued with this guilt for having left the nest at the tender age of 18 (about 40 years too soon for my parents). I'm starting to realize that it's my life, and if I don't put a stop to their madness and assert my independence, I will be stuck for who knows how long.
So here is the real resolution No. 1: Spend less time at home.
It's not that I don't love my parents or that I don't like spending time with them, but for the last two months since I've gotten my own place, I have constantly felt this pull between them and myself. I want to have a life of my own, friends I can hang out with on the weekends, get to know the city I'm living in. For better or worse, I'm stuck up there for at least a year and I'm not going to hate it any less if I don't spend time there to find something I like. Besides, the fact that my mother thinks I can't even buy a gallon of milk on my own is beyond ridiculous. I've been without her watchful eye for 5 years -- why is this suddenly a problem?
I'm sure part of it is that she wants to have me close now that she can (and especially since I was gone) but this is beyond ridiculous. If I don't put my foot down, what would stop the regression from getting to the point where she is brushing my hair again? The madness must end.
I'm still trying to actually write my 10 resolutions for 2010 somewhere (what I call 10 in 2010) so I can see them and stick to them. I don't even know if I have 10 resolutions yet, but I will have them by Sunday. Maybe that can be resolution No. 1?
In any case, I know that one of the bigger resolutions is to start cutting the cord from the folks. Now, this has been done somewhat over the last 5 years, but I've always been plagued with this guilt for having left the nest at the tender age of 18 (about 40 years too soon for my parents). I'm starting to realize that it's my life, and if I don't put a stop to their madness and assert my independence, I will be stuck for who knows how long.
So here is the real resolution No. 1: Spend less time at home.
It's not that I don't love my parents or that I don't like spending time with them, but for the last two months since I've gotten my own place, I have constantly felt this pull between them and myself. I want to have a life of my own, friends I can hang out with on the weekends, get to know the city I'm living in. For better or worse, I'm stuck up there for at least a year and I'm not going to hate it any less if I don't spend time there to find something I like. Besides, the fact that my mother thinks I can't even buy a gallon of milk on my own is beyond ridiculous. I've been without her watchful eye for 5 years -- why is this suddenly a problem?
I'm sure part of it is that she wants to have me close now that she can (and especially since I was gone) but this is beyond ridiculous. If I don't put my foot down, what would stop the regression from getting to the point where she is brushing my hair again? The madness must end.
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